


The Jenson Epilogue

by SisterWine



Category: Copyrighted 2018, Original Work
Genre: 1904, And enemies closer, Be true to your love, F/M, Gen, Keep your friends close, Vintage love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterWine/pseuds/SisterWine
Summary: Disclaimer: This is an original fiction. My own idea.Summary: Bits and pieces of what happened in the prior settings of Matthew and Angela's relationship. This follows my story of "The House On 7th Avenue."





	1. Chapter 1

The door opened and Josh stepped in, flicking on the light before making his way to the centre of the room and stopping to stare up at the middle beam. It was a long and quiet month later while they waited for the City Counsel to weigh the verdict on Matthew's death. He hadn't been up to the attic after the two apparitions left, nor had he brought it upon himself to look at the photos of the two. Today was the first day he had been brave enough to climb the stairs and open the door, as well as shove himself forward, into the attic and stand. Footsteps came from behind him and stopped a few feet away. "Matt?" He shuddered as a chill went through him. Josh turned to find his sister standing there, instead.

"Just me." Kristy smiled sombrely. "They're gone, Josh. Finally at rest." She had watched him open the door to the attic and disappear through the doorway and decided to try and comfort her little brother as well as herself. For the past month, she felt as if the world had lost all colour. She knew she would be alright but worried about her brother losing the one best friend he had, even if that best friend had been dead for a hundred years. "You okay?"

Josh bowed his head and quickly wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his gray sweatshirt. "Yea, somethin' in my eye."

Nodding, Kristy sighed and looked around the room. "I miss them, too."

Josh shrugged. "It's not fair. I wish they would come back alive. Like, we solved their mysteries. Now, they can finish their lives, ya know?"

Smiling at her brother's innocent thinking, Kristy shook her head and stepped forward to hug him. "I know. But, it doesn't work that way." When they separated, she took a step back and repeated her question of if he was alright. When he nodded, she nudged him towards the door with the promise of things getting better. "C'mon. Laura and Eleanor are coming to supper. Mom wants us to clean our rooms so she can show Eleanor around the house."

Nodding and making his way over to the door, he paused and took one last look around the room before starting down the stairs, his sister behind him. "Now, she wants to see the house? Why?"

Kristy shut off the light to the attic and closed the door behind her as she walked down the stairs with him. "I don't know. Mom just said to clean our rooms." She hadn't stopped thinking about watching Matthew finally get to walk down the porch steps and into the arms of his waiting wife. She had wanted to capture the moment, keep the memory alive somehow. She had laughed through her tears after seeing Tabitha dance her way to Heaven. The house was quieter without them, darker too. Since their departure, Kristy had become more interested in their eras, taking part in a volunteer position in the Elmore Jenson house and even helping her mom out at the shop.

Josh had become interested in photography and even took Matthew's old camera to show his class and explain the inner workings of old technology and the result of Matthew's own attempts. He invested his time in the older techniques and was proud of himself for accomplishing his own retro look. Karen had transformed the once blocked off room, in the basement, as a dark room for him and eagerly awaited his progress with each snapshot.

They shuffled into their room and tidied up, hiding laundry baskets in their closets and then making their beds before dusting their furnitures, each helping out the other with their chores. When they were done, they had just enough time to clean themselves up and get dressed before the doorbell rang. 

As Karen answered the door, Kristy and Josh slowly smade their way downstairs to greet their guests. They smiled and hugged Laura before being introduced to Eleanor, who looked about the entranceway with awe. "Eleanor, this is my daughter, Kristy and my son, Josh." She patted their shoulder as she introduced them to the woman standing in the foyer.

Smiling, Eleanor held out a hand for them to shake in greeting. "Hello. Your mother has told me so much about you, and what she missed, Laura has filled in." She wasn't sure what to expect by meeting the family as well as stepping inside her grandcousin's home after years of belief he had brought shame to their family. Laura had been relentless in her badgerings and pleadings to see the house and after a month, Laura had worn her mother down, promising to stay only a few minutes.

Kristy waved and smiled but Josh only smiled faintly and looked away. Their coats were taken and hung on the hook, next to the door, as Karen showed them into the Parlour. 

"We have two more guests coming, and then, supper should be ready." Karen stood at the end of the sofa and waited for Eleanor and Laura to sit down before making her announcement. When Laura gave her a confused look, she elaborated. "Dalton and Evelyn Kent."

Eleanor gave a sharp look up at Karen and quickly shook her head as she stood up. "Oh, no. I'm afraid I should get going. I love what you've done with the house, Karen, really. I just can't stay with those people." Reaching down to grab her purse, as she had placed it on the sofa, beside her, she took a step towards the door when Laura grabbed her arm in attempt to stop her mother from leaving.

Laura had stood and reached for her mother's wrist with both hands. "Mom, please. DNA has proven he _is_ Matt's grandson and it's wrong to keep him from his family. You're willing to still call Elmore apart of your family after what he did, but _not_ Dalton Kent because of who his grandmother was? That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?" Steeling herself as her mother turned to meet her gaze, Laura refused to back down until Eleanor made up her mind and sat back down.

"Alright. I'm willing to hear what he has to say." Eleanor sighed and sat next to Laura, feeling a little uncomfortable in the night's gathering.

Several minutes passed before the doorbell rang and a nervous Dalton Kent stood on the front porch alongside his wife. Karen answered the door and welcomed them both inside. Dalton had paused in the foyer and stared in awe at the grand room that had once been occupied by Matthew and Angela. 

"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Eppley. Dalton has been so nervous, today." Evelyn reached out to shake Karen's hand and quietly explained her husband's silence.

Smiling, Karen noted the man's look of awe as he stared at the banister and let his eyes follow the long golden wood up to the second floor. "Please, call me Karen. Come in to the Parlour. I'd like to introduce you to someone." 

Dalton blinked and was brought back to his surroundings as his wife edged him out of the foyer. "Thank you, Karen. It's amasing just being in the rooms my grandparents once walked through." Dalton entered the Parlour and smiled as he noticed Laura standing and making her way around to them, giving he and his wife a welcoming hug.

Eleanor swallowed and stood up as she turned to greet the two new guests. "Hello, I'm Eleanor, Roberta Jenson's great granddaughter. You know my daughter, Laura, already."

Nodding and reaching out to shake the woman's hand, Dalton smiled at the Jenson name. "Hello, Mrs. ..."

"Eleanor, please."

"How about a tour of the house?" Karen offered and smiled at the excitement and wonder on Dalton's face.

 

************

 

Summer 1904

Angela sat in the parlour, along with Cassandra and Emma, having tea. This was the second time Matthew had brought her over to be with his family, and the second time she received mixed emotions from the family. She made sure to get her hair done and nails sculpted after she had treated herself to the latest summer fashion from New York and Chicago. Her long brunette hair styled in the latest fashion of pomp with a bun in back had gotten several complements from Emma and Roberta, Matthew's cousin, as well as her purple lace with cool white linen summer tea gown. She sat with her back to the window, on a small squared peach sofa, and faced Emma and Cassandra, who sat in high-backed arm chairs sipping their tea.

"Matthew tells me you are enjoying our little town, Angela. Tell me, has he shown you to the museums, yet?" Cassandra sat straight and sipped her tea as she asked, regally.

Swallowing her sip and lowering her cup and saucer to her lap, Angela smiled politely and answered. "Yes. He has been quite the gentleman and tour guide. In fact, he is taking time off, next week, to escort me to the lake for paddleboating and a picnic." 

Emma reached for a biscuit from the dessert tray, on the table between them and took a small bite. She chewed and swallowed as she watched Angela's nonchalant noticing of the two young girls standing at the doorway. "Charles and I would love to have you and Matthew up to our cabin, next month. I know Matthew works so hard and you two seem to have few outings together. The children will be in school and Charles and I have a boathouse ready for company."

Looking from the door to Emma, Angela thought about the offer. "I will address it to him." A soft moan as she rubbed at her brow with her fingertip of her left hand, she closed her eyes as a dull pain started in her head.

"Are you alright, dear?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes, thank you. I'm quite alright. It's a small headache." Angela groaned again and squeezed her eyes shut.

Emma placed her cup and saucer on the table and came around to sit beside her. "Poor dear. Have you anything to take for it?"

Angela gave her head a shake. "I'll be alright." She rubbed at her temple. 

Cassandra also placed her cup and saucer on the table between them and stood up. "Perhaps, I should ask Matthew to take you home." She excused herself as Angela nodded and sat back in her seat. She shooed her two daughters away from the door and quietly slid the Parlour doors closed before turning and making her way down the hallway to the study, where her husband, Charles, Matthew and Nicholas sat, discussing politics and other man topics. Opening the door, she stepped in and caught Matthew's attention, as he sat by the fireplace, in a high-backed chair, resting against the red velvet padding. "Angela requests to be taken home. She is not feeling well." Her voice was low as he stood and made his way over to where she stood.

Nodding and excusing himself from the group, Matthew followed her out of the room and closed the door behind him. "Please have Olivia call a coach. I'll collect Angela and the coats." He turned and paused as Cassandra stood a foot away. 

"The poor dear's in agony, Matthew. Has she seen a doctor?" Cassandra placed a hand on his arm and asked in a hushed tone.

Matthew shifted. "She mentioned having a physician in Colorado Springs and one in Boulder. I'm not sure which treats her for headaches. Doctor Maitland is a neighbour of mine. I suppose I should consult him." He empathised with Angela and her terrible migraines as he had his fair share as well but his were mainly due to immense stress. He wasn't sure where her's came from and left just as sudden as they came, at times. 

Patting his hand and smiling, Cassandra looked to the kitchen, where the young cook had opened the door to find her mistress and announce meal time. "Clara, would you have Olivia send for a coach. Matthew is taking Angela to the doctor."

"Yes ma'am." The woman was mid height and thin but cooked a well-proportioned meal for only being barely twenty. She eyed Matthew shyly but quickly turned away before Cassandra noticed her line of sight. The maid disappeared back into the kitchen to fetch Olivia before returning to her duties. 

***********

The coach arrived and Matthew helped Angela into the buggy before crawling up and sitting beside her. 

Angela rest her head on his shoulder and groaned at the jerking movement of the coach. "Matthew, please take me home." Closing her eyes and raising a lace gloved hand to her shield her eyes from the sun that bounced off the metal surfaces of the driver's seat, she sighed as he placed his arm around her and called to the driver of the new address. 

"Shall I ring the doctor to come to you?" Matthew let worry seep into his words as he held her close to him.

She shook her head lightly. "No. I'll be alright. It's just a headache. Please, I just wish to go home, right now." Angela shifted and nuzzled his shoulder, trying to block out the light. Her hat had tilt to the right and it's wide brim kept hitting Matthew in the head with every movement she made. As the coach came to a stop in front of her hotel, she groaned again as he helped her down from the coach. The heel of her shoe caught on the metal step and she fell forward, landing against his chest and felt his arms wrap around her as he caught her.

Matthew held her hand as she braced against him and climbed the steps next to her. Holding the door open for her, he had wanted to see her all the way upstairs to her flat on the third floor but he paused in the grand and marbeled lobby. "Will you be alright?" He asked as they separated and she turned toward the lift.

Angela turned around and gave him a faint smile in return. "Yes. Thank you, Matthew." Another smile as he kissed her hand and walked her to the lift, seeing her inside before man closed the door and raised the contraption up to her floor. Once the door opened, she made her way down the hall and dug her key out of her small handbag on her wrist. Opening her flat door and stepping inside, immediately removed her hat and set it down on the small table, next to the door, before removing the hairpin that kept the tight bun of brunette hair in place. Long threads of brunette curls came tumbling down her back, this time she sighed loudly as the bit of pressure that pained her, eased with the release of her hair. 

Walking into the next room, she pressed the button on the wall and turned on the lamp, next to the door. "Gerald! What are you doing here?" A hand flew to her breast in shock at the shaded figure sitting in the high-backed chair in the corner, between the bed and the window. Angela took a ragged breath from the scare and composed herself before stepping forward. 

Gerald White sat cross-legged on the chair, his elbows resting on the polished wooden arms and his hands folded in front of him. "Out with Matthew, again, I see. What specialty do you see in him?"

Her fingertips rubbed at a pounding temple as Angela sighed once more and stepped forward to place her free hand on the brass bedrail that ran served as a footboard to her bed and lifted one foot before the other, slipping out of her heeled shoes. Closing her eyes for a moment, she reveled in the feel of her foot flat on the cool floor, again relieving pressure. She noted his movement and gasped shortly as he had come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissed her neck and shoulder. "Gerald, please. Not now. I have a headache."

"It'll pass." The kisses continued between his words. "Does he dare press his lips against your skin, my Angel? Tell me, darling. What are his dirty secrets he hides from view?" His hands groped at her waist and he was urged on by her soft moans into his touch. Reaching around to unbutton her waistcoat and slip it off of her shoulders before tossing it carelessly to the floor, Gerald was eager to hear the woman's report of younger man that had taken his lover away from him.

"Stop this, Gerald." Angela couldn't stop herself from melting with his touch. "Matthew is a true gentleman. I have no right to speak ill of him." Though her body ached for romance, she reminded herself that she was in the company of a married man.

Gerald growled under his breath as Angela pulled away from him. "He is no knight in shining armour, Angela. Don't be so taken by his foppish looks and boyish charm. His family has given my mother nothing but grief and I will not stand for any Jenson to dismantle what my father has built."

Stepping forward and turning to look at him, Angela took a breath. "The only demise of your family has come from your own father, something you should take note of."

Fury burned in Gerald's eyes. "My father was an upstanding gentleman until he bed my little brother's whore of a mother. That first day I saw him, I knew. That bastard has my father's blood in his veins and his plump and obnoxious uncle has flaunted him in my face for three years. Now, the wretch is after another prize of mine."

Angela's temper flared as she listened to his possessive rant. "I am _not_ your prize, Gerald. You are the schoolboy companion to my brother and my sister's husband. Matthew wants nothing of your family or your father's inheritance. If you wished to have me at your side, instead of my lovely sister, you should have stated as such. Please excuse yourself, Gerald." She had never been one to take away from what her family, even extended family had, and it was not her idea to have had a fling with her brother's best friend, even though, he had been engaged to the sister of Daniel's wife, Helen, at the time. Angela had no way of knowing the depth of what she had been thrust into, not only by a jealous Gerald White but the opposing side's Elmore Jenson, as well. She had no idea what to expect of Matthew, prior to meeting him and had fashioned him as a bungling feeble-minded suitor that became the unsuspecting patsy in the ruthless game Elmore Jenson and Gerald White now engaged them both in.

Gerald's fury rose and he stepped forward to place a hand at her lace collared throat and hiss in her ear. "I warn you, Angel. Do not find yourself in path of my anger, else I will not hesitate to inform Matthew of your treachery." Removing his hand and turning to hurry out of her flat, he smiled to himself as he heard her gasp for air.

Rubbing a hand at her neck and calming herself from Gerald's threat, Angela stared at the open bedroom door, waiting for him to come back and assault her again. When no steps came, Angela stumbled into her small bathroom and turned on the faucet, retrieving a clean white washcloth from the wire shelf, above the toilet, and proceeded to wash her face with the cool, damp cloth. Staring at her reflection, she whispered in a raspy tone, "what have you gotten yourself into, girl?" Her hands shook as she patted the cloth to her ashen cheeks. Her neck was still red from where Gerald had grabbed her and her eyes became swollen from the tears that fell as Gerald retreated from the room. She began to have severe doubts of ever seeing Matthew again, let alone hearing the name Jenson, in her ears.

 

Continued


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew and Charles strolled slowly along the walking path of Washington Park, which had become a fanciful urban retreat to Denver residents. A sunny Saturday afternoon with a cool breeze making its presence known as it rustled the tall trees that lofted high above their heads, breaking the suns rays into small pools of gold on the dirt path they walked on. "I am astounded Edward and Gerald did not call you in, this Saturday, also. It would make five in a row, they've done that. Are they trying to run you ragged, cousin?" Charles walked leisurely alongside Matthew and noted each time Matthew had yawned.

Shaking his head and covering another yawn, Matthew sighed and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, not breaking stride. "End of the fiscal year is upon us, Charlie. Somehow, I don't think I'll see Decembre."

Charles' tan suit brightened with every step into the light he took and he stopped to turn and laugh at his older cousin before realising that Matthew had been serious. "This time is busy for all of us. What more load do they have to give you?" Concern silencing his chiding. He hadn't really looked at his friend but now took the time to see the dark circles under Matthew's eyes and the drained posture of the man that stood beside him.

"Just... missing numbers. Dollars." Matthew covered another yawn with a tired hand. "I didn't get home last night until late and even in sleep, my head was swimming with numbers that never seem to--" Matthew paused and took a breath as two beautiful, tall ladies with parasols giggled and whispered to each other, eyeing both he and Charles as they walked past them, heading the opposite direction.

Charles "hm-ed" and continued to walk alongside Matthew. "What of the other employees? Do they share your burden? Edward? Gerald?"

"No." 

Another "hm" from Charles as they came to a stop along a curve in the path, around a large lake. A small white fence separated them from the grassy area that led down to the water. Charles sat on the top beam that ran parallel to the ground and braced his hands beside him. He faced where they had been as Matthew stared out at the water. "What does Angela think of your overworking? Or, doesn't she mind?"

Matthew sighed and stared intently at the rippling water that glistened in gold from the rays of the sun. "Since last Saturday, she's been scarce. I have penned a letter to her family, in Boston, and have asked them for their permission to propose to her. I would much rather ask in person but, she says that won't be workable." Downcasting his eyes for a moment then turning his head to look at his cousin, Matthew bit his lip. "Now that you've met her, what do you think? Should I ask her to be my bride?"

Charles chuckled to himself. "Well, Matt, if you love her that much, ask her. What father says about her is a little overwhelming but," raising his hands and smiling at his forlorn cousin, "I'm honestly on the fence about this one." Glancing over to the other man and smiling, Charles realised it had been a long time before Matthew was able to smile a real, heartfelt smile. "I cannot pick your wife for you, Matthew. Emma enjoys her company, though." Seeing the worry and frustration return to his cousin's face, Charles stood and turned to pat Matthew on the back before draping his arm around Matthew's shoulder and continue walking down the path. "If your heart lies with her, I say go for it, old man." After a few more steps, he smiled and added, "it would be nice for William to have a cousin to play with."

Matthew nodded and thought to himself the concept of what Charles had said. "What _does_ Uncle say about her?"

"Hm? Well, father is very investigative. You know that. He says the silly woman is up to something and that she seems to have an agenda of her own. You know how he feels of the whole 'strong woman' thing. Frankly, I tend to see it, too." Charles stared at the ground in front of them as they walked but paused when he felt a tug on his arm as Matthew had stopped to look at him in disbelief. "Don't be upset, Matt. A woman from Boston, her family's wealth, comes here to be swept away by a child of.... pieces are not exactly adding up, cousin. I love you as my best companion and family but I don't wish to see you hurt."

Matthew wasn't sure how to take his cousin's admission.

Fearing the unease in Matthew's expression, Charles quickly changed the subject and linked arms with him to urge on. "Have you gotten that train set up and running, yet? William has been asking to see it. The twins have also inquired."

"Train set? Oh, yes. They may see it, tomorrow," Matthew paused for another yawn, "provided they finish their chores, first."

Charles laughed and patted Matthew on the back as they walked. "Come on, cousin. Let's get you home for a nap." Leading the tired man over to the side of the road to catch a coach, he accompanied his cousin back to his home on 7th Avenue and gave Marie instructions for Matthew not to be disturbed. He left not long after dropping Matthew off at home and seeing him upstairs, to bed. He did pause to note the state of disarray Matthew's desk, in the parlour, was in.

~~~~~~~~

Pushing the chair away from the desk and sighing in frustration, the agent that sat in the second desk along the left side of the room, stood and walked over to stand in front of Matthew's desk and tossed his paycheck at the startled accountant. "Matthew! What is this? I am missing two of my commissions for this week. Have you miscounted, again?" Daniel, an arrogant Irishman of 36, now fumed. His bushy red mustache fluffed and scrunched as the man grit his teeth and stared at the man in chair. 

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I added up all of your commissions for the week and I gave you the correct amount. Is it possible you've misplaced any commissions, again?" Matthew regained his composure without alerting the man to his rapid heartbeat.

The commotion caught the attention of another agent, who was also upset about his depleted paycheck, that sat across the aisle from Daniel. "Sit down, Daniel. This is not the hour nor person to bring this to the attention of." Gregory's booming voice carried into the back office and stopped the workings of the other three men in the outer office.

Daniel turned to glare at Gregory. "Stay out of this, boyo! This wee one's gonna get a roundin', an' ye might be next!" He turned back to Matthew and grabbed the lapel of Matthew's tan wool vest and held a fist up to punch him. Gregory's hand on his arm only stopped him momentarily and he reared back to knock the man away, readying to hit Matthew. The door opened to his left and Gerald stepped out to watch.

"Daniel, have a lunch. Matthew, my office." Gerald stared at Daniel as the man flashed him an angry look but released Matthew's vest and dropped his fist before turning and storming out of the building. Standing aside and waving Matthew into the office, he turned to look at the startled man. "Matthew." 

Gregory watched as Matthew stepped into the back office and stepped forward to speak to Gerald, on Matthew's behalf. "Gerald, we are all upset about our pays but I don't think it is Matthew's fault we are constantly short." For a moment, he narrowed his eyes at his boss. He hadn't been Matthew's best of companions but he wasn't one to trust the two men behind the door, either. 

Taking a breath and showing no emotion, Gerald nodded for the man to return to his desk as he followed Matthew into the office and closed the door behind him. "Tell me, Matthew," clearing his throat and walking around to sit at his desk, offering the man a seat in the chair across from him, "it's come to our attention that we are short this month, yet our productivity is up. I, too, have noticed these discrepancies in the books. How do you explain it?"

Matthew's jaw dropped. "Are you accusing me of stealing, Gerald?"

"You are the only person to do our books." 

"I have never stolen anything in my life, Gerald. My uncle will attest to that."

Clearing his throat again, Gerald sat back in his chair. "I see. Well, we have caught the thief, anyway. Should there be more, Matthew..."

Matthew's heart pound in his chest as they shared a look before Gerald waved his hand to have him return to his desk. Matthew waited until he sat at his own desk to breathe a sigh of relief but held his breath as Daniel, who had returned from lunch and was sitting at his desk, finishing paperwork, was called into the office. As the door closed behind Daniel, Matthew tried to control his shaking hands as he focused on his work. After five minutes, the door opened again and Matthew had been consumed in his paperwork to see Daniel lunge toward him and this time punch him in jaw, knocking him out of his chair and hitting the floor with a shocked look on his face.

Both Gregory and Gerald jumped to Matthew's defense. Gregory and Eason, another agent who had come to work on a later shift, pulled the irate man away from coming over Matthew's desk and beating him more. As the three escorted Daniel out of the building and Gerald flagged a constable, Gregory stepped back inside and came over to help Matthew to his feet. "Popped you a good one, eh?" He patted Matthew on the back as the younger man came to his feet. 

Matthew nodded and rubbed at his sore jaw. 

"Alright?" Gregory released Matthew's shoulders, once he could stand on his own, and gave Matthew a quick once-over. "I don't believe you have anything to do with the missing money, Matthew. In fact, I believe you are good enough to short yourself, to make up for the loss..." He raised a knowing eyebrow. "Or, have I watched you wrongly?" Gregory was the only on to have a second desk that faced the wall, to the man's left, as well as a desk facing the front of the office. He preferred to face the wall, when he had no policyholders come to see him. Several times he had caught the look of desperation on Matthew's face and watched him, out of the corner of his eye, as Matthew reworked his own earnings to boost the others' pay.

Glancing at the door before Gerald stepped in with a second constable, Matthew quickly nodded. "I'm sorry, Gregory."

Gregory shook his head and smiled. "Don't worry about it. Your secret's safe with me." He winked as the door opened and Gerald stepped in.

"Matthew, Constable Andrews wishes to know if you will press charges against Daniel, for striking you."

Matthew and Gregory shared a look before he turned his attention over to the constable. "No, thank you. At this time, I wish to postpone any further charges."

"Fine then." Gerald dismissed the constable and watched as Daniel was escorted home by the two constables and promptly returned to his office.

 

Continued.


	3. Chapter 3

His ears had stopped ringing by the time he left work and climbed into the coach to head home. With his jaw still upset, his head had started to ache and Matthew rubbed at his temples to relieve some pressure. Handing the coachman a dollar, he climbed out of it and shut the door before turning around to find his uncle standing in the open doorway, waiting for him with his fists on hips. Matthew cleared his throat and sighed as he started up the walk to the house. "Hello, uncle."

"Matthew." Elmore raised a condescending eyebrow at his tired and sore nephew. "I see you've taken after your ungrateful father and picked a fight at the local saloon, have you?" Eyeing Matthew as he rubbed at the egg-shaped bruise that had come to view on his jaw. His eyes narrowed as Matthew came closer and slowly stepped up the stairs, pausing only briefly on the porch to greet his uncle. 

The front door have been ajar and the foyer light was on. Matthew continued in to the dining area and sat down at the head of the table. "Marie, please bring a compress." The head maid had come out of the kitchen to find him home for supper, after letting in Elmore and assuring the eager man her master would be home shortly. His hand hid the bruise on his left jaw but Marie was able to see through his fingers and only nodded and turned back into the kitchen. When she returned with a cool compress, he sighed and blinked up at his elder. "It was not a bar fight, simply a disagreement at work."

When Marie returned, she raised the compress to his jaw and patted at the bruise as Matthew flinched from pain of the touch and gingerly took the cloth from her. "Would you like some tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee, Marie." Elmore's monotone voice bellowed from the foyer as he stepped forward to sit at Matthew's left and stare hard at him.

Matthew stared at the table. When he did look up, he met Marie's eyes only for a brief second. "None for me, thank you." The throbbing in his jaw continued and hurt even worse as he spoke. As Marie excused herself again, he leveled his gaze on his uncle. "The theft of petty cash finally came to a point, at work. Though, he did not come out to say it, I believe Gerald suspects I took the money when we both know otherwise is true."

Elmore's face hardened as he nodded. "And Edward? What of him?"

Matthew cleared his throat before answering. "He is making frequent trips back and forth to Boston. Uncle, this silly agenda of yours eludes me. I would have wished for a simple practise, instead I find myself thrust into filthy politics and misdealings of business. What is your strategy for this?" He sat back as Marie came out of the kitchen to place a small white cup and saucer down in front of Elmore. Her other hand held the silver teapot shaped container of cream, for him. He waved her away after she asked if there was anything else for her to serve.

"Matthew, I will not hear again your childish fantasy of a non-existent practise of medicine you seem so enthralled with having. Is that understood?" Elmore didn't look at Matthew as he poured the cream into his coffee and set it back down on the table before picking up the teaspoon that rest on the saucer, beside the cup, and stirring his caramel-coloured coffee.

Downcasting his eyes to the red fabric tablecloth, Matthew nodded. "Yes, uncle." His heart sank after hearing the cold words defeat his dreams. 

Elmore sipped at his coffee as he held it to his lips. After two sips, his eyes shifted to Matthew, who sat adjacent to him in silence. "What of this woman, you court?" He knew Matthew had strong feelings for her and, though, he had wished to distract Matthew's business attention with her, he harboured feelings of question of Angela and what her inner desires of Matthew had been. He wondered if he had erred, pressing them together. 

Shifting and sitting up, Matthew gave a faint smile in hopes to please his uncle with the news of his decision. "I wish to ask her permission to marry. I am prepared to pen a letter, or visit in person, to her parents to do so." He smiled wider this time, hoping for praise.

Grunting and sipping his coffee again, Elmore replaced the cup to the saucer and stood. "Of all the idiotic nonsense you come up with, nephew. There are more established women, in this state, Matthew."

"More established women, in this state or not, want nothing to do with me unless I am granting them payment. Miss Dowling accepts my presence and wishes to see me often, with her." Matthew added, under his breath.

Elmore said nothing as he stood and made his way back to the foyer to collect his hat and coat, hanging on a hook, in the entryway. "Matthew, if you wish to court this woman and wed her, do so without my consent. As your elder family who knows your worth, she will not love you indiscriminately, when she learns of your youth. There is no cleanliness in that." After slipping on his coat, he spoke before turning and placing his top hat on his head. "Good evening."

Matthew stood. "Good evening, uncle."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Angela laughed softly and raised her glass to her lips. She sipped at the red wine from the crystal glass in her white gloved hand. The evening had contained nothing less than excitement and merriment for her. She gazed lovingly at Matthew, who sat to her left at the head of the long table. To her right, sat Emma, who held her husband Charles' hand as it rest on the table. Charles occupied the opposite end seat while his younger brother Nicholas and his fiancee of one month, occupied the other side of the table. Replacing her glass to the table and lifting her spoon to dip her soup with, she paused to look fully over at Matthew and smile. Her smiled faded as she noted his unease. "Is something the matter, Matthew?"

Matthew had watched her, the majority of the evening, and debated the right moment to approach her throughout the evening. Awaking from his daze, he blinked and shook his head, returning the smile to her. "No, nothing's the matter, darling." He stole a glance at the end of the table and swallowed nervously as Charles silently nudged his cousin to continue. After a brief moment of silence, a soft concerto filled the grand dining hall and couples rose from their chairs to dance at the ballroom, in the centre of the large room. 

Straightening her position and placing her empty spoon beside her bowl, letting it rest on the plate underneath, Angela folded her hands in her lap and waited for Matthew to finish his words. She looked angelic in her soft pink evening gown and had had her hair done, earlier that afternoon, for the occasion. Amber eyes blinked at him with innocence, letting the other couples fall away and leaving only she and Matthew in the room. "You are so quiet, tonight."

After a ragged breath, Matthew cleared his throat and slid out of his seat to kneel beside her chair. He gingerly took her left hand in his and nervously slipped a small gold band with a large princess-cut diamond on her ring finger. "Angela Elizabeth Nora Dowling, I humbly ask your approval. Will you...." he paused. His heart pound loudly in his chest as she turned in her seat to face him fully. "Will you be my bride and make me the happiest man in Colorado?"

Angela's eyes widened as she looked from his pleading face to the ring on her finger. Sound seemed to cease and she sat there a long minute, mouth falling open in shock. Her right hand moved to chest, feeling for her heartbeat. "I... I don't..."

Matthew's expression turned to worry as he feared her rejection. He swallowed and lowered his gaze from her eyes to the ring. His uncle had seemingly been right in her enjoyment of his company but little else required of him. Yet, he had hoped to prove Elmore wrong. Meeting her eyes again with a hopeful smile, Matthew awaited her answer of yes but prepared himself for no.

"I do love you, Matthew Jenson and our time together has been short and eventful. I cherish the days we spend together so, I hope you know, this is no easy question for me to answer." Angela felt his hands shake with her every word. "I am not a new bride, Matthew and I cannot pretend I am." Cupping his pale cheek with her gloved hand, she smiled as he closed his eyes and leant into her caress. He had proven himself different from Edward Deacon's older brother and seemed to care greatly for her thoughts and touch, instead of merely for her femininity. When Matthew opened his eyes again and stared up at her, she knew her answer. "Yes, Matthew. I will be your bride."

Matthew smiled and raised a shaky hand to hers, at his cheek. Applause from the other tablemates sounded over the music and he raised up to kiss her cheek. For the remainder of the evening, Matthew felt as if his feet didn't touch the ground. He smiled with genuine love and cheer as they danced and chatted during the course of their mealtime.

At the end of the evening, Matthew walked her home, holding her hand and enjoying her head on his shoulder. Now, they stood on her stoop and faced each other in silence. "I hope you had a wonderful time, tonight. You have made my heart soar with your answer."

Angela smiled and blushed. "I await the day we can be together, Matthew. It's late. I have to wake early, tomorrow."

Nodding, Matthew agreed. "Supper at my uncle's?"

"I have a long day tomorrow. Thursday would be better...?" Angela offered.

Matthew smiled and agreed. "Thursday, then. Good night, darling." Kissing her hand and seeing her inside, he watched her go up the stairs before turning and walking home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Angela unlocked her door and stepped in. The flat was dark and she pressed the button on the wall turning on the lights, before closing the door. Raising her left hand to admire the diamond ring on her finger, she sighed with glee. With one last look, she slipped out of her dark, wool coat and draped it over the arm of the chair, waiting beside the door. A knock at the door startled her. She turned and opened it a crack to see a man standing there, a large bouquet in his hands. Smiling at the flowers, as they hid the man's face, she spoke. "Matthew, you darling man."

"Matthew?" The flowers lowered and a man's face came into view. 

In an instant, the smile and colour drained from her face with recognition. "Quentin. What are you doing here?" Her eyes widened as her ex-husband stepped closer. 

The man stepped forward again as Angela stepped back, further into her flat. "I came to see my wife. Who is this 'Matthew', you speak of?" Salt and Pepper hair smoothed nicely back helmeted the roundish Irish face of the man that closed the door behind him as he crossed the threshold.

Angela placed a hand to her chest and gathered her strength. "You're not welcome here, Quentin. You should leave, now." 

His bushy black mustache twitched with his anger. Stepping forward and grabbing her arm after dropping the bouquet of mixed flowers, Quentin held her in front of him. "You did not answer my question, Angela. Who is this Matthew? And where can I find the bedswerver?" Angry brown eyes glared at her, expecting an answer immediately.

"Let go of me!" Angela freed herself from his grasp and backed away from him as he swiped to catch her again. "I have not been your wife for a year, now. You have no right to be here. Get out."

Quentin stepped forward again and caught her by the wrist as she sat down on the bed, trapped between the angry man and the mattress. "He buys you yellow metal and cheap glass with promise of wed, does he? My wife is no man's bride!" The man sneered and eyed the ring on her finger. He leant forward in an attempt to force himself but halted when her piercing scream woke the neighbours, who came banging on her door to aid her. Their lips met and muffled her screams only for a moment. Growling his frustration, he released her and straightened. "If I find this Matthew before I'm through here, I will put both of you out of sight, for good." Without another word, he turned and stormed back over to the door, throwing it open and growling madly at the handful of ladies who gathered in front of it, and stalked down the hallway.

 

Continued


	4. Tabitha

25 April 1928

 

The door opened and Tabby stepped into the entryway. She shivered at the cool late night air and slipped off her long, white fur coat. Hanging it on the hanger next to the door, she opened the door to the house and stepped in. "Charlie?" Her voice rang out, into the silent house. The chandelier in the foyer was left on, so that she wouldn't come home in complete darkness. "Andrew? Andrew, are you up?" She paused at the bottom of the stairs, where a small table held the newly shaped telephone; a square claw-footed box with bell-shaped ear and speaking pieces on either end of a long, clear glass rod handle for the handset, draped over top. Stepping out of her white high heels and stepping on the cool wood flooring, she busied herself with taking off her large pearl earrings that dangled small thin, gold chains from them. 

A small noise came from upstairs and she turned to see who was up there. "Andrew? Charlie?" When no answer came, she turned back and set the pair of earrings down, beside the phone. A folded piece of pink paper caught her attention. Sliding it out from under the front, left claw foot of the telephone, she unfolded it and read it, written in the hand of her elder butler/chauffeur, Andrew.

 

**Darling,  
** Out on business,  
Andrew is with me.  
Home later. 

**C.**

 

Tabby shrugged and tossed the note back onto the table. She turned to go upstairs, stopping only to press the light button, on the wall, before climbing the steps. Reaching the top of the stairs, she paused to find the master bedroom light had been left on. "Just like a man," she thought, "always leaving lights on." She walked down the hallway and turned into the bedroom. The bed was made, clothes she had casually laid on the end of the bed after trying on countless dresses to go dancing in, were put away in the closet and, sitting neatly on the bar, at the far left of the room, was a martini glass with a pink spritzer that was waiting for her. "You're so thoughtful, Andrew."

A sigh and a yawn, Tabby stretched and groaned as her body ached from dancing half the night in high heels. Looking at the clock, on the mantle, she shook her head. At the far left end of the bar, sat a small brown radio. Turning the knob and waiting for it to warm up before adjusting the volume, she sipped at her spritzer. _They must have just left _she thought. The drink was cool and had no feeling of being left out for hours.__

__After another sip, she replaced her drink on the bar and turned to walk across the hallway, to the washroom. Starting the water and plugging the drain, Tabby reached up to unbutton her dress, from the back, and walk back into the bedroom to discard the clothing. Letting the white, sequined dress fall to the floor, she stepped out of it and started removing her underclothes. The radio had finished warming up and started playing the latest tune from Duke Ellington. The volume gradually rose and the radio warmed up more and as she let down her longish brown hair, she turned the volume knob up a little bit more, so that she could hear it from her bath._ _

__Pouring in the powdered bubbles in the last few inches of water needed before turning the water off. Tabby set the box down on the toilet lid and stepping into the tub, she sat down and relaxed against the cool back, letting her hair hang over the edge. She closed her eyes and let her body relax in the warm water. Opening her eyes and lifting her head from the edge of the tub, she reached to her left and picked up a washcloth from the ledge, indented in the wall, and dropped it into the water. Ringing it out, folding it and draping it over her eyes, she leant her head back and listened to the music as it played._ _

__As she finished her bath and climbed out of the tub, pulling the plug, she stood on the fuzzy bathmat. She turned and noted the box of bubble powder had been moved to the countre, next to the sink, and a fluffy white towel had replaced it on the toiletlid. "Did I do that?" Her brow furrowed in question. She knew she had a few too many at the club and seemed to be losing time but as she looked from the box to the towel, a chill came over her._ _

__From the bedroom, a man's voice sounded, telling the listeners that they had reached the end of the broadcast day and to have a good night. Tabby jumped at the sound of the man's tone and grabbed for the towel, after barely hearing the speech. She yawned. Drying herself and wrapping the towel around her, she walked back into the bedroom and stepped over where her dress had fallen and had mysterious vanished from the floor, next to the bed, and reappeared draped over the end of the chair, next to the turret window. The curtains had been pulled and the bed turned down on her side._ _

__Tabby checked the clock one last time. It was late. Twelve-thirty in the morning. She paused and listened for movement in the house before discarding her towel on the end of the bed, on Charlie's side, and dressing in her satin negligee. "That's it on the giggle water for awhile. I think I'm blacking out some stuff." She shook her head and walked over to the bar and turned off the radio, her neglected spritzer sat next to it. After starting a fire, in the fireplace with the fresh logs from the afternoon, she turned off the light and crawled into bed, sitting there and watching the flames dance before she fell asleep, propped up with her pillow between her back and the wall._ _

__She woke up, sometime during the early morning, to open her eyes only for a second and find the outline of a man, sitting on the bench by the window. "Come to bed, Charlie. I'm cold." During her sleep, her body had shifted to lie down, crossways on the bed, leaving only her legs covered by the covers. She sighed as the man walked over and covered her more with the covers, not moving her or touching her at all._ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__Morning came and the smell of food wafted through the air. Tabby shifted under the covers and lay there for a moment, waking up, before sitting up and looking around the room. She rubbed her eyes and looked over to the turret bench and thought of the man she found sitting there, hours prior. Sliding off of the side of the bed and grabbing her bedjacket, she slipped it on and looked at the clock on the mantle, seven-thirty. The aroma of bacon and eggs filtered through the open door and became stronger with every inhale she took._ _

__Slipping on her shoes, Tabby made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, where Andrew had prepared a plate for her. "Morning Andy!" She came around the corner and smiled as she sat at the table, letting Andrew place the plate of scrambled eggs and four pieces of bacon down in front of her._ _

__"Morning, MIss." Andrew was an older gentleman of forty-five, well-rounded in the art of servantry and literature. A tall, thin man who could also handle himself, should the need arise. His black hair slicked back and parted on the left looked almost painted on, it was so thin._ _

__Tabby picked up her fork and took a bite of eggs, chewing them as she asked, "when did Charlie leave? I saw him for a minute, by the window, and then he covered me with the blanket and left."_ _

__"Miss?" Andrew stopped and turned around as he head back to the stove to clean up. "Mister O'Shane was not upstairs, Miss. I dropped him off at the train station, to visit his ill aunt, in Aspen." He turned back before seeing her stop chewing and raise an eyebrow at the statement._ _

__Tabby hmmed. "So, it was you that covered me up, this morning?"_ _

__"No, Miss. I returned here only an hour ago." Andrew turned with a questionable look. "Another gentleman caller, Miss?"_ _

__Tabby thought for a moment and shook her head. "Not last night. Huh." She put her fork down on the plate and sat back. "Andy, clear out the booze, for awhile. I'm starting to lose time, again."_ _

__"Yes, Miss." Andrew turned back to his chore. "Feeling alright, Miss?"_ _

__Tabby shook her head as she tried to fathom the events of the hours before. "Yea, I'm just having a bad reaction to bending my elbow, I guess. Where did you say Charlie went?" She picked up her fork and stabbed a few kernels of eggs before raising her fork to her mouth and taking a bite._ _

__Andrew had smiled to himself at the remark of hers to stop drinking and brought over a cup of hot coffee for her. "He went to Aspen, Miss. His aunt is in terrible pain." Setting the cup down, next to her plate, he busied himself with straightening up the stove and cleaning the remnants. "Another plate, Miss?"_ _

__"Uh huh." Tabby nodded and grunted her answer as she chewed. She had finished her first plate and was chewing on the last piece of bacon as he took the empty plate and replaced it with the full one. After swallowing and reaching for her cup of coffee, she cleared her throat and stared at the man's back as he made his way to the sink to wash her dishes. "Are you sure you just got back? I could have sworn I saw a man sitting at the window." Her vision had been too blurry and drowsy to see a clear face but she knew the man sat facing her, watching her and possibly even smiling at her through the flicker of the firelight._ _

__Pausing in his scrubbing of the plate and silverware, Andrew turned. "Positive, Miss. Six forty-five, on the dot. Shall I stand outside your bedroom, tonight?"_ _

__"No. No, that won't be necessary, Andrew. Thanks."_ _

__"Very well. Out clubbing, tonight?"_ _

__Tabby opened her mouth to say something but quickly thought against it. "No. No, I think just a quiet night home, is fine."_ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__Tabby and Marcela, her childhood friend who had recently moved out west, sat in the parlour and chatted as they sipped wine and listened to music. A fire had been going in the fireplace and was the only light in the room. Both sat side by side on the high-backed red sofa that faced the fireplace and laughed as they chatted about their girlhood. With Andrew dismissed for the night, Tabby had made them sandwiches from the leftover meats and fresh bread Andrew had picked up from the store, that afternoon. They took the platter of food and drinks and had their own little party with music, until the end of the broadcast day._ _

__Marcela, a lanky brunette with deep brown eyes and light olive skin, stared at the flames in retrospect. "You know, I get this feeling that we aren't alone, here." She shivered and took another sip before looking over to Tabby, sitting on her left. She had been taught to take extra care in old houses as the previous owners had sometimes not fully left. Her thin face was made even thinner by the subtle glow of the fire._ _

__Laughing, Tabby shook her head. "Girl, you've been spending way too much time in New Orleans, with your family."_ _

__"I'm serious, Tabs. Don't you feel the chill in the room that moves around? Like you're being watched? The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up." Marcela shivered again and as soon as she ended her sentence, she felt the cool air dissipate and the warmth of the fire touched at her cheeks. Feeling the cool air slip away, she looked over her right shoulder for anything to explain the feeling she felt._ _

__Tabby turned her body to bring her legs up, in front of her as she turned to face Marcela. "Marcy, this house isn't old enough to have ghosts." She sipped at her red wine and rest her head against the back of the sofa._ _

__Marcela turned back with a look of uncertainty. "Are you sure?"_ _

__Tabby shrugged. "The owners didn't disclose anything. The neighbourhood kids say it's haunted because it's been empty for so long. That's all." She neglected to tell her lifelong friend of the events of the night before. Feeling it absurd to feed the notion of ghosts and paranormal happenings, Tabby thought it best to brush it aside, until something undeniable happened. "Tell ya what, there's a lady, a house or two down, that's lived here forever. We could ask her, in the morning. How's that?" When Marcela agreed, she nodded as if agreeing to her own idea, even though, she was certain there wasn't any ghosts in the house. She hid a shiver as a cool breeze brushed against her left arm. Yawning and taking another sip, Tabby slid off of the sofa and stood up. "Why don't we call it a night, Marce? It's getting late and I didn't get enough sleep, last night."_ _

__Marcela took a deep breath and stretched as sitting too long made her stiff and sore. She agreed and followed Tabby upstairs, to the master bedroom, giggling and laughing about childhood playfulness. Changing from their dresses to nightshirts and covering themselves under the covers, the chilled room was short-lived as the fire roared in the fireplace. Eventually, they both fell asleep talking about school days and such but at the back of their minds, ran an eerie feeling about the house._ _

__

__Continued._ _


	5. Chapter 5

The attic door opened and Dalton and Evelyn stepped in, followed by Eleanor and Laura. He swallowed as they stood in the dark room for only a moment before Karen flicked on the light. He gasped and his jaw dropped as he stared at the bed of Matthew and Angela, in the far left corner. As Evelyn took his hand, he felt tears well up but they didn't fall and it wasn't until he turned around to see the display of photos, that they fell. Since Matthew and Tabitha had been freed, Karen and Kristy had added to the display, framing and hanging all the photos they had found of Matthew and Angela on the wall, around the table. His eyes caught sight of the enlarged, poster-sized photo of Matthew that hung in the middle, blocking the window, and he stepped closer to to it. "Hello, grandfather." 

Eleanor stood in the same place she had stopped at and stared at the same photo. "Grandmother always said he was handsome but it wasn't until something told me to unlock his door, that I really looked at him. He's in so few of the family albums that I never really paid attention."

Laura looked over at her mother. "I thought you said you wanted to boost business."

"I did. I was cleaning and rearranging Cassie's dresses, for show, when his key fell out of one of her pockets. I thought it was their bedroom door but it wasn't. Elmore wrote in his journal that, after Matthew died, he closed and locked the door. When I opened it, it was a mess. Boxes, papers, things everywhere. Your great grandmother somehow got hold of it and refused to give it up. When she died, the room was locked again and forgotten about." Eleanor slowly looked around the room before looking up, to the crossbeam. 

Evelyn, who had remained silent through the walk, moved to rub her husband's back. "Why not show them your photo?" She whispered as she looked up at him.

Josh and Kristy stood just inside the room and watched in silence, occasionally glancing at one another with a sombre expression. Kristy looked over and saw Josh staring at the large photo of Matthew and placed her arm around his shoulders. She looked back at Dalton as he turned around and removed his wallet from his backpocket. 

Slowly staring at the photo he held in his hand. "I went through my family's albums and found one that I think will finally unite our family's, again." Dalton held out the photo for Eleanor and waited until she held it to explain who was in it. "My mother is the little girl standing with her mother, Angela, and Aunt Cassandra and Roberta. This was taken in 1911."

Holding her breath in as Eleanor stared at the black and white photo, she could hardly believe what she saw. "Grandmother told me they had locked him away; completely put him out of their minds. She refused to say his name. I know she tried to sell this house, just like Elmore but both had no luck. Even Junior refused to come inside when he had control of it." She stared at the face of her grandmother, who couldn't be bothered to smile, standing next to the woman she believed murdered her beloved cousin. 

"Junior?" Josh spoke up.

Laura turned and smiled back at the thirteen-year-old. "EJ. He used Matt's house as a bootleg post, in the twenties. He went to jail for it, in the thirties." 

"Oh." Josh answered.

Eleanor looked up at Dalton. "Who took this? Do you know?" She hadn't recognised the scenery around them, either but suspected it was probably Angela's new residence, or a park. 

Dalton sighed. "Mother said it was a boy named Francis; her cousin, I believe. He was a teenager, then, and he lived here for a few years, at the end of the '20s."

Elbowing her brother, Kristy whispered, "Tabby's sugardaddy."

Laura turned around again. "Huh?"

"She means," giving her daughter a look, Karen corrected, "he was Tabitha Moore's boyfriend, and went by 'Charlie' then." Turning back to the group, her eyes found Laura's as the young woman realised who the man had been.

"Angela's nephew." Laura's eyes widened as she elaborated. "Her brother's son. He used O'Shane when he became a gangster." Laura had taken the liberty, of the past month, to investigate Edmond Dowling, II's side of the family and found a few things that unsettled her about the man. "So, I looked up in the archives online, and I found quite a bit of disturbing facts about the Dowlings. Matt was actually her second husband. Her first was... ready for this...? A man by the name of Quentin Deacon. That's right, the older brother of Edward, Matt's boss. Harrison White, Matt and Gerald's dad, was one time partners with Edmund Dowling II and Quentin Deacon. Elmore and Dowling II had a row with Quentin after Quentin caused the loss of Angela's first child, then three months along. Angela barely survived and Dowling II reluctantly agreed to let Elmore set her up in Colorado Springs, where her doctor was, which is why she made so many trips back and forth. Gerald was who she was supposed to meet that afternoon, instead of Matt, to protect her finances from Quentin." Taking a breath, Laura looked around at the different expressions after she relayed the information to them. She was surprised that most had the same shocked expression as she had, reading about Angela.

Dalton stepped toward her. He looked puzzled. "She never mentioned anyone in her family."

"Yea, she might have had one hell of a wake up call, after Matt died." Laura took another breath. "Aside from being the one that watched Matthew die, he was under the employ of....." she swallowed as she felt the bile rise, "Elmore. When Elmore realised Matt was onto him and it was only a matter or time before Matt figure out that 'Carter', the name of the mysterious account, was actually Angela's, under the guise of Elmore's deceased dad, he plotted to murder his own nephew. Edmund III had a son, Francis Charles, who often suffered at the hands of his dad, after the third's 'business trips' and would act out, in school, getting himself expelled from most of the Boston area boys schools. 'Charlie' never made it past the third grade. When he went into a life of crime, he took his mother's maiden name, O'Shane, to separate the family association."

Eleanor groaned at the new information. "First, you expect me to believe what happened to the cousin was not suicide but murder. Now, I have to believe one of Denver's elite was behind the plot. And all of this was because he wanted to win an election?"

Giving her mother a sickened look, Laura nodded. "Sickening. Isn't it?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

5 August 1904

Matthew spent his lunch break running errands and making sure he had his list of items correct before he paid the bills. Elmore hadn't wanted anything to do with his marriage to Angela and so had Matthew finance it for himself, with secret help from Cassandra, of course. As he walked back in to the office and sat down at his desk, the back office door opened and Edward and another man carried their laughter out, into the front, as they emerged. 

"Ah, Matthew," Edward had caught his eye and stepped forward to introduce him to the man he had been laughing with, "meet my brother, Quentin." He turned back to his brother as Matthew stood and reached a hand for the man to shake in greeting. "Matthew is our finance department, and soon to be married." Edward tossed a look over to Matthew and gave a curt smile. "What was her name?"

Matthew blinked and swallowed from being put on the spot. "Angela."

Taking Matthew's hand and greeting him before he heard Angela's name, Quentin laughed. Upon hearing her name, the smile faded and his eyes narrowed. "Angela, hm? Tell me, Matthew," he released Matthew's hand and slipped his hands into his pants pockets, as not to knock the young man flat, "does she speak of a family, for you? Silly women are ensnaring good men that way."

"We would like to be settled before we discuss such personal thoughts." Matthew smiled politely.

Quentin smirked. "Yes." Turning back to his younger brother, he gave a sly wink and reached out to pat his Edward on the back. "Eddie, I must get along, now. Business to finish, you know." Clearing his throat and offering a hand to Matthew, he turned back to the clerk and smiled, cheshirely. "Matthew, congratulations on your forthcoming engagement. I'm certain the little woman will keep you entertained." Letting Matthew get back to work, he tossed an arm around Edward's shoulders as they walked to the door, together. He whispered something to his brother as they approached the door and spoke more freely as they stepped outside, to laugh about their conversation, neither tossing a glance over their shoulders to the man sitting at his desk, wondering what Quentin had meant.

Gregory turned and rolled his chair over to where Matthew sat. "He appeared just after you left and they have been in there, laughing and carrying on for some time. Before you came to work here, Quentin was here and gone quite often, Always short the cash. The books never made sense and the investigations as to why were immediately quashed. My advice, change the locks on your drawers, often, Matthew. Unless, you wish to be suspect, next." He rolled himself back to his desk as the door opened and Edward entered, walking back to his office and closing the door, behind him.

Waiting for the door to lock, Matthew thought about Gregory's words and eyed the back of the man, who was busy with his own work. He sighed and found himself making small glances to his desk drawer that he kept locked with the tin of petty cash, inside. Finally, the curiosity got the better of him and he reached a shaky hand down to gently tug on the handle of the drawer. He paused and held his breath as the drawer moved, slightly.

~~~~~~~~~~~

23 March 1901  
Virginia City, Nevada

Matthew stepped out of the stage cabin and looked around the dusty town he had once called home. The town had withered since he had last seen it; half of the once thriving businesses now sat in boarded up ruin. However, there had been some progressions on the town. The telegraph office had expanded into a notary and court house. Turning his head slowly from one side of town to the other. He turned back to stare at the old faded green sign of a place he had grown to hate; The Dusty Glass Saloon. 

The Dusty Glass was a makeshift saloon that, in it's hayday, was capable of holding 20 patrons, plus the barkeep and piano player. Upstairs had been where he had lived for four years, with his mother, Cora, until Thomas Dyer rescued them. Across the gravel street and two buildings to the left, sat the open red door, long and tall, with a thin, frosted window. With a heavy sigh, he crossed the street and stepped onto the wood walk, stopping in front of the open door.

Matthew stood there and peered inside. He knew she wouldn't be there, and that the owner was probably long since passed. His heart pound in his throat. 

"Ya know, starin' at it from this distance, ain't gonna get you that drink any sooner." A woman's voice came from his left. She had stopped on the walk, after leaving the Dry Goods store, and stared at him. 

Matthew didn't move from staring inside. "I don't drink."

The woman smiled and nodded. "I figured. After spendin' yer younger years here, you'd stay away from it. 'less you had a reason to come back." Cocking her head to the side, she looked at his profiled face and knew immediately who it was. "Welcome home, Matthew."

Brow furrowing in confusion, Matthew turned to look at the woman who spoke to him. "Do I know you?"

The woman blushed. "I dragged you down to my house for food after you wolfed down the biscuits I brought ya." 

Matthew's eyes widened, a smile graced his lips. "Susie Preston."

"Hello, Matthew." Susanne Preston-Watt smiled up at him from under a tuft of auburn bangs. "It's Watt, now." She showed him the thin band on her left hand. Pulling the tan knit shawl over her shoulders, she stepped closer to him. "Caleb Watt asked me three years ago. I couldn't hold out for you any longer. Sorry, Matthew." She had promised herself she would never tell anyone of the secret crush she had had on him, when they were school mates. When he moved away, she was heartbroken and spent months wishing he would come back.

Matthew nodded solemnly. "Caleb? The mean boy from class? I'm sorry I didn't come back, Susie. I have been quite busy with studies and my new employment. Congratulations on your marriage, it suits you well." He admired her fancy dress and fresh face that he had remembered from years past. "You've certainly grown up into a very lovely-looking woman."

Susie nodded. "Thank you. Yeah, the mean boy from class who used to push you around. He's changed, actually, Matthew. After you left, his pa was arrested for beatin' on a miner who was smackin' around a prostitute. The miner ended up killin' her, he beat her so badly. Caleb saw the whole thing and as the sheriff was arrestin' him, he turned to Caleb and told him that it was never alright to beat on a woman, no matter what she did. After that, we started talkin' about... well, .... you... and yer mama." Swallowing and clearing her throat, nervously, she changed the subject. "I was sure yer uncle kept you busy, over there. He's certainly made headlines, here." The weather had been chilly that day and she had thought that the dark red and green plaid dress she wore would soak up the heat in the sun and give her warmth but, it was only a small bit. She shivered.

Matthew's brow furrowed again. "What do you mean, 'headlines'?"

Looking from him to the open door, where the bartendre now stood, waiting for them to either come in or move on, Susie turned back and motioned for them to start walking. "Nothing bad. Just headlines to share how he was tryin' to get some changes goin' in office. You were even mentioned in one article. All it said was that he took you in and promoted the school fundings of the one he sent you to." Her voice lowered as they walked up the street. "It must have been horrible for you, Matthew."

Shrugging, Matthew watched the ground as they walked. "He took me in when he could have sent me to the Orphan Asylum. I think my Aunt Cassie had something to say about that." He smiled as he recalled the controlled argument his aunt and uncle had several nights before he was enrolled into the boys school. 

Susie stopped and turned to him. "So, why did you come back, now?" 

Stopping and turning to face her, Matthew sighed. "I came to have my mother moved to Denver, with me." He bit his lip as he could see the confusion in her expression.

"I think it's not really somethin' to do but, it's great that you want to be near her and have her close to you." Susie smiled politely and hoped she hadn't offended him. 

Matthew shrugged. "My uncle said something to those words, also."

Nodding, Susie could see the mixed feelings in his otherwise lost expression. "How long ya gonna stay?"

Glancing away and swallowing as his eye caught the far off fence of the town cemetery, he turned back and met eyes with her. "A few days. At least until I can secure her travel. Mister Havish still own the hotel?" Matthew looked back toward where they had been and found the hotel still open for business.

"Yea, only it's his son that owns it, now. Mister Havish caught yellow fever, a few years ago, and passed in less than two weeks. His son's nice. Come on, I'll walk ya over there, before I have to get back home to fix Caleb's supper. He works at the stamper and he'll be home soon." Susie waved him back into town and over to the hotel.

 

Continued.


	6. Chapter 6

Matthew opened the door to the lobby of the Tahoe House and let Susie step in, first. He paused in the doorway as he caught sight of a familiar face, sitting in the lounge area. "Susie, is that...?" He swallowed nervously as he stared at the gentleman sitting at a table, reading the paper and sipping coffee from his saucer.

Susie stopped and turned back to see where Matthew was looking. "Yeah, he never made it outta town, after you left. A tinhorn came through, that night, and shucked a good game of cards and Thomas lost everything. I mean, everything, Matthew. Anyway, the Marshalls came through, lookin' for the tinhorn and Thomas helped them catch him. Soon after, he became Sheriff. He has a room, upstairs." She paused and could see the terror on his face. "I'll understand if you don't want to stay here, Matthew."

"No, no, it's fine, Susie. Thank you." Matthew looked from the man still reading the paper to Susie, and smiled. "You should hurry home before Caleb worries."

Susie nodded. She took a step forward but paused again. "Come for supper, tonight. Momma is comin' over and makin' her famous cornbread. I know she would love to see you, again. Twelve Birch Street, about six. Alright?"

Matthew smiled and nodded as he remembered Mrs. Preston's cornbread. "Alright."

Susie's smile widened. "Great. I'll tell Caleb to set another place." She listened to the clock in the lobby chime three and patted his arm before she hurried out to the street to get home.

Matthew stepped inside the hotel and out of the doorway. His eyes found the man at the table, once again, as he gripped the handle on his suitcase ever tighter. The large room with the front desk to his left and group of tables and chairs, to his right, Matthew's attention held only one table and chair and he swallowed again as he stepped forward. Finally, he found himself standing in front of the table, staring at the paper that hid the man's face. "Hello, Sheriff. Might I have a word with you?"

The man let the top part of the paper drop to show him who was speaking to him. "Certainly." He noted the man's thin black suitcase at the man's left side and offered him a seat at the table. "What brings you to our fine town, Mister...?"

Matthew didn't answer. He placed the suitcase on the floor, beside the chair, and sat down, across from the sheriff. "I'm not staying long. In fact, I am here to remove a departed's casket and take them with me." Matthew could feel his nerves take over as his hands shook from under the table, yet he refused to let the elder man know of his terror. Just then, the waiter stepped forward and asked him if he wished an order but Matthew shook his head and turned back to Thomas.

"Such a ghastly feat. Who is it you wish to spirit away with you?" Thomas raised his cup for the waiter to pour more coffee as he waited for Matthew to answer.

Waiting for the waiter to pour the coffee and leave, Matthew took a deep breath and released it before he spoke. "Cora Lyn Jenson."

Thomas' brow furrowed as he heard the name. Turning back to his paper, he posed the question, "an affinity for whores, have you? Or, is it medical practise, you seek? Cora died from consumption, my boy."

Matthew swallowed his anger at the word Thomas used to describe his mother but showed no trace of it as he answered. "I am well aware of her previous condition, Mister Dyer. I remember walking alone behind her casket and watching, numb, as it was lowered into the ground."

The paper lowered again but revealed a stern look from the respected sheriff. "Have we met, prior, young man?"

"Long enough to know you didn't deserve her as a wife. And be assured, Mister Dyer, when I have completed my business, I will never set foot in this dried up town, again." Matthew stared flatly at the man across from him. 

Thomas leant forward with an angry expression. Recognition slowly taking hold of him. Folding the paper and laying it on the table, beside his cup and saucer, his eyes widened. "I do know you. Matthew, is it? My, my, son, losing your tether, are you? Your uncle should have delivered you to the orphan asylum he promised me would have you. As for your mother, dear boy, I loved her enough to remove her from that damned brothel as well as give you a decent home. As I recall, there were several young lads who thought you a joke as you also hid behind the marm's apron strings with a dunce cap on your head." Matthew had remembered the man's sharp tongue and Texas drawl but as the man had tried, he was unable to make Matthew flinch from his words.

Matthew sat straight and stared back with his monotone facade. "As I recall, you spent your pay and your attention at that same brothel you claimed to have rescued us from. Tomorrow, my cousins arrive to assist me. This is just a friendly notice to you. I have already cleared it with the mayor as well as Father Small." With that, Matthew stood up and made his way over to the front desk to sign in. He didn't let out an easy breath until he was safely inside his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The setting sun left a little light for Susie to watch for her long lost crush to walk down the street. It was just before six when she saw his familiar form walking up the street. "Matthew! You made it." Susie's gleeful voice called to him from the front porch of her and Caleb's small, two room home. Making her way down the three steps to greet him, she paused as he held two small groupings of flowers for both her and her mother. 

Matthew smiled as she came to meet him at the gate to their small yard. Faded gray walkway parted two small flower gardens, for the front yard, and brand new porch installed the Fall before. Opening the gate and stepping into the yard, he handed one bouquet to Susie and nodded as she smiled and accepted before he caught sight of a small toddler, hanging onto the open door of the house. "We have a watcher." He nodded to where the child stood and smiled. 

Susie turned quickly to see what he was looking at. "CJ, come here." She clapped her hands and bent down to receive the toddler who cautiously walked toward them. When the child finally came close enough, she scooped him up into her arms and turned to introduce him to Matthew. "This is our son, Caleb Junior." Letting the boy sit on her crooked arm, Susie watched the boy's face as he stared up at Matthew. "He'll be three in a few months."

Smiling and shaking the small hand, Matthew noted how happy Susie was with being a wife and mother. "Hello, Caleb Junior." His smile lessened as he looked up to the doorway and found Caleb's father standing there, wondering where his wife and son went. "Caleb." Matthew spoke with a neutral tone and swallowed nervously as his long ago harasser stepped out, onto the porch.

"So, the big-shot doctor remembered us poor, meagre folk in the dust, did he?" Caleb's tone was taunting at first but as he stepped down onto the first step, his tone relaxed and a smile graced his lips. "Matthew. Sue tells me you live in Denver, now. Have you come back for nostalgia?" Caleb stepped down to the bottom of the steps and placed his arm possessively around Susanne's shoulders.

Clearing his throat, Matthew shifted uncomfortably. "No. Actually, I am here on business." Seeing the display of possession, Matthew began to feel very awkward being there. He had started wonder if it was a good idea to come at all. Seeing his friend and his tormentor living together was giving Matthew a bad feeling. If it hadn't have been for Mrs. Preston coming out to see what everyone was doing on the front walk, he was sure he would have excused himself for the night.

"Susanne, honey, are we eatin' alone, in here?" The woman was older but just as Matthew remembered her from the night before he left for Denver. "Matthew Jenson, is that you I see?"

Matthew froze when he heard his name in the tone only his mother and the school marm had used. "Yes, ma'am. Hello, Mrs. Preston." He smiled nervously and clutched the flowers for her, tightly.

Her mouth opened wide with a smile as she stepped out and hurried down the steps, her arms open to accept a hug from him. "Bless your heart, Matthew. We worried so hard for you, when you left." Embracing the taller man, she held him close and patted his back, easing the stress she could feel in his shoulders. "Welcome home, Matthew." Her hair had started to fall out of the messy bun she had kept it in and she had put on a few more pounds than he had remembered. Taking a breath, she pushed him to arms length and looked at him in the darkened light of the swiftly fading sun. "Let me look at you. Hm, still skin and bones. That uncle of yours ever feed you, Matthew?"

Smiling and laughing to himself, Matthew nodded. "Yes, ma'am. My aunt Cassandra feeds me graciously." She had taken him by surprise as she pulled him in for another big hug before informing her daughter and son-in-law to go inside and eat before the food gets cold. Matthew blushed as her arm linked in his as they walked back into the house with Susanne and Caleb following. As they made it to the top of the steps, he handed the woman the bouquet of flowers he had brought and smiled as she smiled brightly and accepted them. He had remembered that she was a woman who really didn't like him around her daughter, when they were in class together. He also remembered that it wasn't until his mother became ill that her mood towards him changed.

~~~~~~~~~~

A long wooden table sat in the middle of the kitchen with two long benches on either side. Matthew sat next to Mrs. Preston while Susanne sat across from her mother and Caleb across from Matthew, with Caleb Junior in a wooden highchair, at the end. The light in the room was a single, thick candle hanging on a solid black, curved plate suspended from the ceiling by three black chains. The house itself had the same rough set up as Mrs. Preston's only flipped so that the stairs to the bedrooms was on the opposite side of the kitchen. Though the house was not two-story, the two bedrooms sat higher than the kitchen and attached work area, which was more or less an attached desk and chair and a small shelf for books and important papers.

"How do you like it in Denver, Matthew?" Caleb cut a piece of roast before stabbing it and a slice of carrot and taking the bite of food, chewing it as he watched Matthew's reaction to his question. Caleb had cleaned up when he came home, changing his clothes to his Sunday social clothes, consisting of a bluish gray shirt and tan pants. He had also combed his hair and was presentable by the time his mother in law knocked on the door.

Matthew chewed his bite of potato and tried to remind himself that they were not in the classroom, anymore and that Caleb was a different person than the mean, aggressive bully he had been in Matthew's childhood. "I am kept quite busy with my new employment and I am learning a bit of other areas of study. My cousin, Charlie, has been introducing me to businessmen from all over Colorado and the east coast."

Caleb nodded as he took another bite of roast. "Any stampers?"

Clearing his throat, Matthew nodded and swallowed his second bite of biscuit. "A few. Cripple Creek and Victor are two that I can think of, off hand. Good business?"

"Yeah." Caleb nodded. "How's doctor life treatin' ya?"

Matthew stopped chewing his bite of roast and swallowed the lump in his throat of the question he had been dreading to hear since he came back. "Foolish childhood dream, actually. I am an accountant at a law firm, in town. My employers are old acquaintances of my uncle." The conversation fell silent after that.

After a few more minutes of silence, Mrs. Preston buttered another of her halved biscuits and placed it on Matthew's plate with a sly wink to him as she bit into her own half of buttered biscuit. "Do you have a young lady you're courtin', Matthew?"

Swallowing his bite of biscuit, Matthew blushed and stammered in his answer. "Uh, um. Not currently, ma'am."

Catherine Preston swallowed her bite and side glanced over to Matthew. "You know, Susanne's cousin, Shannon, is eligible."

"Momma!" Susanne dropped her hand that held her fork and stared at her mother in shock for trying to force her younger cousin and old crush together.

"Well, she's a beautiful young woman of 17," turning from looking at her daughter, she nudged Matthew as she finished, "she'll be 18 in a few months and she knows how to cook. Just what you need to fatten you up." Catherine nudged him with her elbow and caught his reluctant smile. 

Caleb chewed the last of his roast and potato and glanced over at Matthew's cleared plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin he had draped across his knee, at the start of the meal. Clearing his throat and standing up, Caleb nodded over to Matthew to follow him outside. "Why don't you an' me step outside, for a little chat?" He caught Matthew's eye as Matthew nodded solemnly and stood up to follow him, thanking Susanne for the good meal.

 

Continued.


End file.
